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The Lone Wolf Complex
Waves crashed on the beach, reaching forward to devour abandoned sandcastles and erase the long trails of footprints. With no rocks to check its steady advance, the water foamed along the sand, leaving behind seaweed and broken seashells. Indignant sand crabs burrowed back to safety under the surface. Each wave nudged a little closer to the lifeguard’s lonely shack, which stood silhouetted against the setting sun.
Erica stood alone on the beach, right where the plateau of sand ended and land began its descent to the water. An almost critical expression was fixed upon her normally neutral features as she stared at the landscape. She crossed her arms at her chest and rested her weight on one hip as her feet settled into the sand. The wind caught her hair and teased strands away from the messy bun she had tied to keep her sandy, sea-soaked hair off her neck. To the west, the sun cast slanting shadows along the beach, the light streaking her deep brown hair with gold. Her hazel eyes watched the waves rising and building then crashing with a faded roar, though she didn’t really see them. Instead, she gazed beyond, letting the sound of the waves surround her.
She remained motionless, even when sand-muffled footsteps approached from behind her. Nothing could disturb her calm, least of all a well-wishing companion from the group she had left behind. Erica nearly moved to walk further down the beach—further away from the campfire where unsympathetic friends laughed at trivial, shallow things. But it was too late to move now. Now she would be running away.
So she waited, dreading the inevitable conversation. Her feet shifting in the sand, she braced herself for the words and tried in desperation to think of some response—but silence descended, eased by the crash and hiss of the waves. In the corner of her eye, she saw Derek step up beside her.
To fend off the cool air of dusk, he had put on a collared shirt, clean white against his tan skin, though he left it unbuttoned to the breeze. He hadn’t yet exchanged his swim trunks for slacks, just as Erica had not changed out of her suit. While he had opted for long sleeves, she chose to stand on the windy beach with her shoulders bare to the cold, though she wore loose pajama pants that trailed in the sand. Derek’s eyes lacked the critical edge of Erica’s, though his gaze toward the ocean was as steadfast as hers. His short hair whipped around like wheat caught by the wind. Fighting the cold, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he stood poised on the edge of the dry sand. He seemed to be on the brink of falling into the embrace of the crashing waves.
They stood together, yet apart, silent in unspoken understanding. In his expression, Erica could see the same awe of the world around them that others could not begin to fathom, a world brought out by the monotony of the waves. Erica understood the faint scorn in his eyes, and knew that, like her, he could not connect with the murmurs of excitement that drifted from the fire behind them… nor could they share in the intimate whispers of friends roasting marshmallows over the flame—the warmth—that they shared. Erica—and Derek as well, judging from his choice of vantage point—felt no pulling need to join them in blowing out burning marshmallows, or shrieking when graham crackers fell in the sand. No, the pair was content to watch the waves.
By now the sun had become nothing more than a glow echoing over the water. The wind, seeking to fill the growing darkness, picked up speed. Ruthlessly, it chilled the dampness that remained in Erica’s hair, and touched her bare skin like ice. She tried not to shiver, even as the cold raised goose bumps on her arms. Throwing her shoulders back, she raised her chin as if in challenge to Nature’s elements.
They stood there until it was dark, and the fires began disappearing into the night as beach-goers threw sand on the burning driftwood and turned home. The beach seemed to get colder with each fire reduced to charred, smoking wood.
Despite attempts to suppress the chill she felt, no matter how she tried to trick her mind into thinking she basked in midday heat, Erica shivered periodically, loath to leave behind the calm of the waves to find a jacket back at the fire. She had already rejected the thought of asking Derek for his shirt. Not only would he be cold as well, but she detested the idea of taking advantage of his presence. She refused to be like the other girls he’d known, who had sweetly asked for his jacket or sunglasses or baseball cap in the past.
At last the others of their group began bustling by the fire to collect their belongings and throw sand over the fire. They called out to Erica and Derek, at last finding the pair and intruding into the calm space between them and the sea. They admonished Erica for freezing to death, then Derek for not finding her something to wear. They reproached both for being anti-social, not comprehending the perfect understanding that Erica and Derek shared without exchanging words. They would never grasp the joy these two found in solitude, and in watching the waves.
(edit:) Thank you, Domoviye, for your input. I've changed the category, although technically an essay is just a short piece based on a single topic. Meanwhile, a narrative generally recounts a story, and I purposely left out any particular character development or conflict in this piece.
